“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. "That is easily explained. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. You don’t know. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. “We are Mr. ’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall.
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