These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. I was mean to him. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. . ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence.
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