If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. He, therefore, desires to interrogate him. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. How came you to know it? Have you heard the name before?" "I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you.
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