And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. 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. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side.
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