Marvel. “Mr. ‘Not yet, madame. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it.
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