Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. She crushed the letter in her hand. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes. I suspect he has a bit of vanity. 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. “It was a phase,” she said. " "Oh, that!" He raised his head, staring at her in blank astonishment. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened.
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