As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. “The conventions do not matter one little bit. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. She took his hand in hers. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. I didn’t understand.
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