‘That’s my pet name. ’ ‘Had a certificate for it,’ argued Roding. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. ‘No. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. I want to know who sent you those. CHAPTER XVII. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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