She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. "He left an envelope with some money in it. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read.
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