“Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. Suspicion was in his face. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. Pause. Gerald’s voice came back to her, saying that she could not hope to outwit “a man who means business”. “Very much as usual,” said Ramage. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this.
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