" "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. ” “Try what?” She asked, coolly assessing his lithe hips. I don’t defend it. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. Think, ma’am.
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