She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. Wood.
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