” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. My profession has hardened me. Be frank, I beg you, Miss Pellissier. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. 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.
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