She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. "Been to those places?" "No.
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