White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. “Annabel;” he moaned. “Very,” and cracked a walnut appreciatively. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. You make a game with me, imbecile.
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