She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Wood. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. All of a sudden, there was movement behind him. "What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. " "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that. You knew me in Paris.
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