He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. Boldly he turned the knob of a certain door and entered. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. She had never let off a pistol in her life.
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