CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. 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. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. ” “And he accepted meekly?” “Practically. "No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief.
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