Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. . Splendidly.
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