“You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. I take the life out of men. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. "That he couldn't choose any one so agreeable to me.
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