Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Did he see him, this Monsieur Charvill?’ ‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ confessed Kimble. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. There was something indeed holding the whole species back from the imaginable largeness of life.
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