Anna sprang to her feet with a startled cry. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. ‘No need to upset yourself. But Jack eluded their grasp. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet.
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