He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. All at once they came to the top, the faded blue sky overhead, and whichever way he looked, the horizon, the great rocking circle which hemmed them in. “You shall,” she said. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up.
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