Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic.
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