Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet.
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