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The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her.
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