I spoke a thought aloud. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive.
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