‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. Ramage did not know. He patted the hand on his sleeve. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care.
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