Ramage. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. " "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. But I dare not accept it. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease.
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