“I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards.
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