” Mr. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. 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. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. She caught at the idea. ‘Oh, the Frenchie.
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