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. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down.
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