Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. And Ramage too—about Ramage there would always be that air of avidity, that air of knowledge and inquiry, the mixture of things in his talk that were rather good with things that were rather poor. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing.
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