“You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. “Well, no,” she answered. Enchanted. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze.
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