The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Am I so forgettable?” He strode down the hall as she ran to catch up with him past lockers someone had painted an abysmal shade of gray blue. Melusine turned to look at the walls, and saw, immediately opposite, set between two candelabra above a marquetry side table, a gilded mirror.
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