“And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. 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. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. " He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. ” “Oh my goodness. ” 74 She hung up the phone. She would ignore him. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. Why did you let him have it?" "Let him have it? I can't stand at the elbow of any of the guests and regulate his or her actions. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. The dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style.
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