Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive.
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