Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. “Bit thick on the old man, isn’t it?” said Roddy, who had developed a bluff, straightforward style in the motor shop. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. He was tall, slender, and suave. She must kill this man, or kill herself. This was good. I ought never to have thought of it.
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