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. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. Now, she was the very reverse of all this. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap.
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