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. " She sent a covert glance toward the young man. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. ” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. Mark you, she wasn’t the only one.
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