It felt too good. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Then there was also the horse. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. "It reminds you of a red sea suddenly petrified. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. “You are very good,” she said.
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