” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. And in some incomprehensible way, Ramage was confused with Capes; she had a grotesque disposition to persuade herself that this was really Capes who surrounded her, as it were, with wings of desire. She dismissed the idea of doing so. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint.
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