He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. "My invitation did not extend to them.
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