The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. “One can talk without undertones, so to speak,” said Ramage. He then unfolded his choice and held it before her face. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes.
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