Well, it had to happen somewhen. ” Ramage looked at her, and then fell into deep reflection as the waiter came to paragraph their talk again. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together.
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