” “But you thought you could forget him. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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