"My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. " "It's light. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. "It's not an offer," continued he, "that I'm likely to make, or you're likely to receive every day in the year. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting.
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