” She shook her head. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. I must provide for my safety. I’m a female thing at bottom. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Make up your mind as to the terms, and I'll engage to find the man. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned.
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