She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. He talked about his driver's license, how he would soon inherit his older brother's BMW. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. I miss them so.
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