And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. They went first to a hotel, and then out again on to the boulevards. I must leave England to-night. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. E. ’ ‘Had a certificate for it,’ argued Roding. Been making herself at home all right.
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