"The nurses," she answered. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. 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. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend.
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