"You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate. She gloried in it: he needed her. There was another little thing he had to say. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. 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. The door leaned inward. My letters are returned unopened, her maid will not even allow me across the doorstep. Pause. ‘You cannot be always with me.
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