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. That’s why he was so annoyed, you know. Sheppard. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. She had one idea, she found, very clear in her mind—that she would get a Research Scholarship, and so contrive another year in the laboratory. She came to befriend the female mistresses, some who were even so audacious as to bring their children into the house. Last night there had been no time. He cocked an eyebrow.
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