’ ‘Well, don’t bite my head off,’ protested Mrs Sindlesham, clearly amused. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. She looked at him gravely and squinted. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate.
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