It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. Even this man had accepted her for “Alcide” without a moment’s question. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it.
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