“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. “Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. We'll get together this afternoon; and you can pretend that I am your father. She heard it open, but as she felt unable to look round in a careless manner she pretended not to hear it. . 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. He threw her on the bed. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties.
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