He had looked at it before without comprehension. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear.
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