Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Courtlaw found the study in Cariolus’ studio. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. It shall be your wedding ring.
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