Her back arched slightly in response. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. He was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected.
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