Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. . Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is.
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