“Absolutely platonically,” she said. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. Why doesn’t she marry? Plenty of money under her father’s will. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade.
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