"And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. He followed. ” She side-stepped into his living room from behind a square white column. Besides, how am I to ride home without them?" "Don't distress yourself," returned Jack, "you shall walk. A quick flush stained her cheeks.
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