The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. She cocked her head. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had.
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