” He sat like a man turned to stone. “I don’t think I shall. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. " And she left the room with Blueskin, who very politely offered her his arm. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed.
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