They're on the forward lounge in the saloon. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. Fiercely defensive, as usual. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. It’s a mismatch. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. Above the housetops it was different. ” She grinned. I had to go at a moment’s notice. You are wholly in my power. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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