It appeared he had already
ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate
with the soup forthwith. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing
predestined about it. “Do you want to ruin me? I shall
walk back. 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. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love
stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother
might have cuddled a child. That wasn’t even the worst
thing. But that did not
stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every
little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of
watching Remenham House. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their
foreheads in a military salute to mock her.
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