When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. You won't mind if I empty this gin?" "No. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. . He's nice. A little love from him would be enough. You can’t! I tell you frankly you may break off your engagement to me—I shall hold myself still engaged to you, yours just the same.
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