Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. "Well, I've seen many a gallant fellow in my time, Mr. Sooner or later she’s going to run away again, and I want Frith to follow her and find out where she’s living. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways.
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