She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Her voice was weak and flat. ‘And take you this sword. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. Recollect, he's chained to the ground by a great horse-padlock, and is never unloosed except when he comes to that hatch.
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