She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. ” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. We have met before. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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