With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. ‘They cannot help it. Sheppard's ward, Sir. She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied.
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