" "I can't. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. ’ ‘They? How many are there?’ ‘Oh, peste. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. . ‘The sisters here will not save you. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. I bent over him.
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