She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. ” He did not look at her. 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. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said.
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