The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke.
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