The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. " And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke. ” She said wistfully. My nerves are shaken. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. "There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slipping a piece of money into his hand. “Round midnight, I think.
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