He threw her on the bed. “I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. “Well——” She stopped short.
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