Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. . “I have never yet met a man whose intellect I could respect. ” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. ‘General, we do not know. Take me with you. Jacques is very bad, and I am afraid he may die. “You see, it comes after all,” she continued, “from certain original convictions which have become my religion. You DO understand?” “Who cares for most people?” she said, not looking at him. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking.
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