If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. "That's it!"—eagerly. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. Let me put the main question to you now that I could not put the other afternoon. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night.
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