The next moment he was by her side. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. 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. . You must have figured that out by now.
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