"My lips would belie my heart were I to refuse you. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. " "You're strangely superstitious, Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, halting, and looking steadfastly at him.
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