\" His tone was weak and conciliatory. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. Annabel, I cannot believe it. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind.
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