“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in his demeanour. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone.
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