‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. Wild here presently, and I wouldn't for the world—Zounds!" he exclaimed, as the figure of the thief-taker appeared at the wicket, "here he is. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall. “My dear,” the letter ran, “I have to tell you that your sister Gwen has offended your father very much. I'll go with you. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings.
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