She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. “We are clerks in the same bank.
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