I know my son's voice too well. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. But Jack and his companion were already gone. . ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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