"No!" she cried. "Yes," answered the girl. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. So far she had the utmost difficulty in getting on to that vitally important matter. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. You wouldn't rob Mr.
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