” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones.
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