Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. Ramage, regarding it and putting a well-booted foot up on the bottom rail. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks.
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