She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. “In a sort of beautiful garden-close—wearing lovely dresses and picking beautiful flowers?” “Ah! If one could!” “While those other girls trudge to business and those other women let lodgings. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on.
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