The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. " And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. He swung it open and then used his body to pin her against her seat. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over.
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