They moved fast. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound.
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