His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. He seemed to be about to move toward her. . A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. ’ ‘No. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. We aren’t worth it. "That's well. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the author.
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