“Well,” she said, “good-night, father. “I am only sorry that I did not ask you to go with me. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. Wood, popping her head through the window. ‘Come inside at once, child. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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