Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. ‘There are no Remenhams left. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. ’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. His blood would be sweet with it. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers.
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