A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. . Ramage did not know. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. There's something human about you now. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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