‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. “Morning, Mom. He reached over and took her hand.
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