Just let him down easy, Lucy. "All right," he said. "Yes," answered the girl. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. 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. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. ‘Wait for me. But no; she must step warily.
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