The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. “I say!” he said, without any movement. ’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. ‘So it is that you have made Jacques betray me.
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