Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. I like high tone for a flourish and stars and ideas; but I want my things.
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