82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. It wasn’t pretty. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. "I should be sorry to persuade him to do anything his calmer judgment might disapprove. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance.
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