The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. “Lucy? Ms. ’ Melusine wrenched her wrists out of his hold and stepped back, digging into her skirts, which she had adequately prepared some days ago. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. ‘I can’t do that. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her.
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