Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. His fingers closed upon her hand. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. "My head fairly turns round. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. The executioner shook his head. “She has been to my flat before. To—to find myself.
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