The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. Then he rallied, smiling a little. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. This is not what I want. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. “I meant to say good-bye to you to-night. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. “I say!” he said, without any movement.
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