"I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. There was another little thing he had to say.
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