“I’m next, Mr. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. "I'll now pay the debt I owe you," cried Jack, tightening his grip till the thieftaker blackened in the face. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr.
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