She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. As Gosse pushed her around it, she felt his hold about her of necessity loosen slightly. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner.
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