" "Perhaps so," rejoined the stranger; "but I have others in reserve, not so generally known. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. Ramage?” he asked. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. We can see round them and behind them and through them, and most of us use that knowledge, in the silent way we have, for our great ends.
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