He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. Meanwhile, Mr. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister.
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