Jonathan nodded assent. 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. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. “Hola, Michelle. But you——” Something seemed to catch his breath. He leaned forward to embrace her. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind.
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