ruin you. “I love you, Ann Veronica. "Ye-ah," said O'Higgins, jovially. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. There came to O'Higgins the discouraging knowledge that upon the heels of a wonderful chase—blindman's buff in the dark—would come a stretch of dull inaction. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. ’” Anna made no remark. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him.
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