"I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't.
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