Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. “I can’t help saying it,” she said, with the quality of her voice altering, “but I do NOT think it is right for an unprotected girl to be in London alone as you are. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. "For me—his master, Mr. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table.
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