‘You do not understand, Gérard. " CHAPTER XI. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. “I wonder,” said Ramage, “that more girls don’t think as you do and want to strike out in the world. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. I didn't think. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears.
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