She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. ‘Certainly no one will find it. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. I'll tell you what. 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. ‘It is all too probable that she would wish to change into lay clothing to escape recognition. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. “I shall have to go through the building.
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