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 had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. . Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively.
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