“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets.
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