’ A derisive snort greeted this passage. You know as well as I do that it was accident. I’ll walk over there once I change clothes. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. Ramage did not know. Of course, he had no idea who I was.
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