He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. There will be no avoiding it. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness.
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