There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. I can’t help you a cent. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak.
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