Then came the great day. I have very few friends in Paris. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. 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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