The gentleman didn't communicate his business to me. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden.
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