O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. ” He paused for a time. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing.
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