” Her eyes glinted, macabre. ‘Do not be foolish. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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