The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.
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