He knew me, Nigel. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck.
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