Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly. They will guess that I am English. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to him before in my life. It isn’t the same thing. ” He receded from her. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. .
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