There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. “Look round the table,” she said. She saw nothing of their love-making, and came home from her boarding-school in a state of decently suppressed curiosity for Alice’s wedding.
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