As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready. " "Never count your chickens till they're hatched," observed Mrs. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon.
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