“Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. . At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. They vanished through the doorway. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself.
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