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There was a stain of wine upon her dress. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. “She seems an unusually clever girl,” said Ramage.

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