” Ann Veronica had remained standing while her aunt spoke. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. " The Wastrel laughed. Cathy opened her beauty shop, you know. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. Now I do.
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