Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. The stipendiary would have done it all very differently. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently.
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