” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. The theme was a masquerade. He was looking pale and ill. "Our talking will not bother him.
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