The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. It was the gallows. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him.
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