She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. 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. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. She slipped out the window, jumping to the ground from the second story with very little sound.
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