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. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret.
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