She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. . ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Those are all nice things, but it’s not what I want. ‘I’m determined to find out all about you, mademoiselle.
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