But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. A detective will be here in a few moments to make inquiries into this affair. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Petite build, like herself. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity.
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