His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Not afraid of me, either. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. “I think,” he said, “that I am right. Ramage. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently.
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