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‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. He stabbed into her with brute force. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. She loved him. 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. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him.
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