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His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. The tension was palpable. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She did not try to approach him. “You’re so unbelievably beautiful, Lucy. My foster mom works there as a second job. org. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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