"I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. From other obscure hints dropped by the speakers, Mrs. “My God!” he said again. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced.
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