Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. "Something's wrong. After all there are other things. No one in the world is beyond the shaft of scandal— we all catch it terribly sometimes. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel.
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