“What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. The weed was all right. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. It was not a difficult affair. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult.
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