” Ramage reflected. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs. Sheppard. "To me?" gasped Winifred.
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