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. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. “Yes. ” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied.
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