It was a dead calm. Wants me to look out for you a bit. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. “But this is a surprise!” said Ramage. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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