“You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. He must have married when he was quite a young man. 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. "Those tears will do you good.
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