There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. ’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. Ramage demurred. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. He was painfully in earnest, too. .
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