“You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. “Yes, I have heard of him, and I know him by sight,” he admitted. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard.
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