’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. 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. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. " There was a brief, breathless pause. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there.
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