They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure.
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