The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now.
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