At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Little more’n a week. I can imagine nothing more pleasant in life than to help you, because I know it would pay to help you.
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