" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand. 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. But it would serve.
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