She looked paler than ever; but her countenance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Even her own history teacher, Mr. “I was sick of the make-believe. She was nestled under his bedspread. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Most of the boys did not possess the manners that he did. She was making it up.
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