But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. Like the flaws of an old marble. The helicopter lifted from her hand and hovered in the air. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. Not I. ” “Of course not,” said Ramage, as one who rouses himself from deep preoccupations And he began to question her in a business-like way upon the steps she had taken and the inquiries she had made. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. .
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