His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. His father and his four brothers had perished, leaving him to collect all of their spoils and various kingdoms. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. “Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said gently, “I am afraid that some fresh trouble has come to you. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming.
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