“Please forgive me. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him.
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