Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. 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 held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland.
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