Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. Smith's melody had subsided. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. I want to know who sent you those. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted.
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