She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. “The things involved in it are,” he answered gravely. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. When Mr. Winter came at the manor. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. She had no intention of fighting fair. He had seldom been more perturbed. After fifteen years, to find that peculiarly Occidental attribute—college loyalty—still alive in his heart! A Western idea that had survived; an idea that was merely the flower of youthful enthusiasm! With his hands still in his sleeves, his chin down in speculation over this phenomenon, he continued his patrol. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes.
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