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The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. "Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. Just as he had succeeded in fixing his attention, it was again shaken, and he was almost unnerved by the sight of Mr. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. You might even tire of me by then, you know. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. I want to put myself into your hands.
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