Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. “But perhaps I want to confess them. She remained on guard. That’s why I wanted your weapons. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her.
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