“I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence.
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