The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge; and if she 'scapes stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartainty below. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. “You will have some tea?” she asked. He had thought it might have that effect. He saw now that it was merely a boy. ‘I am sure you will. 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. Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman.
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