She was gathering quite a crowd in her newfound popularity, and the phenomenon was so apparent she could almost form her own harem of young boys. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. ’ Roding’s voice changed. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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