Celeste he knew. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. " Something in the child's voice, something in her manner, warned the spinster that her well-meaning inquisitiveness had received a set-back and that it would be dangerous to press it forward again. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. She had fallen asleep. "No," replied Jack, peremptorily. Poor little one. I can be that man, the one I know you want. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation.
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