. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. ‘It looked to me as if he was playing games with Madame Valade,’ Lucilla said frankly. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket.
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