But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. “I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. Fifty in advance. Deserted by his older companion in iniquity, and instigator to crime, he did not know what might become of him; nor, as we have observed, was the sad spectacle he had just witnessed, without effect. You are the woman I love, Anna.
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