You sent back my Christmas checks. That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. But tell me," he added with much anxiety, "has nothing been heard of Thames since the night of my former escape?" "Nothing whatever," answered Winifred. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. 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.
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