But I don't understand her; she's over my head. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. “You’re burning up. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son.
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