CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1. ‘I doubt it. "I'd lay down my life for yours. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. "Ah!" ejaculated Mrs. I love everything to-day, and all of you, but I love this, this—this innocence upon us most of all.
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