” He smiled at her. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. He is all kindness, and will overlook them for your poor father's sake —for mine. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. I've taught him all he can do; and there isn't his fellow, and never will be again.
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