Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good. These things are difficult. I shouldn't talk like that. ’ Gosse blinked. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. . Take me with you.
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