She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. 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. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window. I could not love you else. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love.
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