" CHAPTER XV. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. ” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. But it is not your name. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. It’s odd, but nothing but cliche seems to meet this case.
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