Ramage,” she said, clinging to her one point, “I want to get out of this horrible little room. ” She took the blue box from her hoodie and held it towards him. I didn't understand then, but I do now. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. " "And what is that?" "I have relatives not far from Hartford. All right really.
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