The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. ‘I know you, Gerald. It was hard to meet that gaze. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. Here was a thundering blow. Let this be a caution to you in future—with whom, and about what you deal. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle.
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