He must be more or less of an age with this man. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well. “I am sick of it. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. Fortescue, with a bow.
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