Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. F.
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