” She looked at him quizzically. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She heard the television blaring away. 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. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. Now what I want you to feel is this.
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