This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. It makes no difference. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. You need only answer me truthfully and you have nothing to fear.
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