The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. She kept her eyes closed. In the presence of the husband of his mistress Rollo was always dignifiedly cheerful, but he never leaped or cavorted as he did when alone with Ruth. E. John looked at his feet bashfully. ‘You wish a life of obedience? So be it, Mademoiselle Charvill.
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