. Ramage went up the Avenue, and she hurried along the path with a beating heart and a disagreeable sense of unsolved problems in her mind. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. She glanced into his face.
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