"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. 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. You were very good. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely.
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