He rested on one elbow. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages.
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