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. "I've got to see him; but I'll be reasonable. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. The whole affair interested him deeply. The Master of the Mint. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on.
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