Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. .
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