“Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. ” He caught her wrist and turned her face towards him. " The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. He seemed to deliberate. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. ‘She knows what she’s up against. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. " The clock tinkled ten.
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