There it was—to be borrowed. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. Greece was a different place. The Jacobite. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. She noticed that this trunk was not littered with hotel labels. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive.
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