She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. “You stupid bitch.
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