” She looked into her glass. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. . The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ‘If ever I met such a pair of lunatics!’ ‘Give me that, Hilary,’ Gerald said at once, ignoring his remark and reaching out for the handkerchief. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. It cost her seventy-seven dollars.
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