These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. But native! She must watch out. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight.
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