“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. ” “You haven’t answered my question. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden.
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