She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. I have always hated it. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage.
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