\" Cathy poured her a glass. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. ” Mike blurted, his voice swallowed by the throb of loud music. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness, and nearly as wide as the passage.
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