No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. ‘It’s a pretty name. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. These dinners, from their lavish display of ambiguous hors d’oeuvre to their skimpy ices in dishes of frilled paper, with their Chianti flasks and Parmesan dishes and their polyglot waiters and polyglot clientele, were very funny and bright; and she really liked Ramage, and valued his help and advice. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. "I see. ” “There’s plenty of time,” said Ramage. ” She glanced into his blue eyes wearily.
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