It was dry, as if she had powdered it. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. That would be him. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension.
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