If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. “I rue the day I ever met you, Sebastianus. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside.
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