‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Exactly,’ pounced Roding bitterly. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. You forget that every one is going to the ‘Unusual’ to see her. Lucy wore it every day from then on. He has got five minutes' start of you.
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