The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. Loving was better than that. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. “Steady on!” he cried.
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