There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. ’ Shock spread across her lovely features. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. ” The truth prevailed. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down.
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