” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. As a dog eats grass. She is, in her way, a dear. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. “I mean it. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. He put an arm around her.
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