2. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. An ancient smile lay on his lips. Her voice recalled him. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. Her mind developed into savage wrath at the present conditions of a woman’s life.
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