She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. ” The truth prevailed. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes.
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