It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. 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. I’ve no name for it yet. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.
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