Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. Your time isn't come yet. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. She winked at him as he shut the door. Your aunt liked the pheasant. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street.
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