Something in his tone pinched her heart. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes. Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. And in some incomprehensible way, Ramage was confused with Capes; she had a grotesque disposition to persuade herself that this was really Capes who surrounded her, as it were, with wings of desire.
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