‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly.
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