Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth.
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