And yet, when you offered to help, it was what is to come that I had in mind. Wood will protect you," urged Mrs. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. So the charge was dismissed.
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