The chapel was crowded to excess. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. "Don't fire," cried the latter. Confidence in himself would strengthen him. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time.
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