” Tears flowed down her face. Ramage went up the Avenue, and she hurried along the path with a beating heart and a disagreeable sense of unsolved problems in her mind. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “You know, my mom caught me smoking once with Missy. You complain of a condition, but you leave the correction to someone else. Lose no time. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. . “I know. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. “For better or worse.
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