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Ramage. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. She appeared to be considering. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. It was painful to want him so much.
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