Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. She felt herself shaking again. 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. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. “You must pack for me. That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again.
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