She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. ‘Kill him? Oh. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. "And so, you really suspected me?" murmured Mrs.
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