The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. “Please come by. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. He carried a small bag.
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