It was no use. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. ‘What do you want with me? Why did you catch me?’ ‘You intrigue me,’ he told her frankly. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St.
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