"Your son," answered the boy. ‘She wants you. Wood, disdainfully. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. ‘Come,’ she called. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched.
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