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. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper.
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