Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. “We have scarcely mentioned your name. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly. For some days we shall be very idle there among the trees and rocks. Terrific shouts were raised by the rabble, who threatened to tear Wild in pieces if he showed himself.
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