“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. . Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. “Yes, aren’t they?” said Ann Veronica, after a thoughtful pause.
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