’ Her lashes fluttered. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. " Thames turned away at the question, which he felt might be construed into a reproach. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. Maybe it’s his loss.
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