‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Ireton, and his two satellites, Austin and Langley.
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