And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection.
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