“The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. 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.
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