Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. "My name is Ruth Enschede. He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back.
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