“It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type. Was it ruined?’ ‘But yes, it was entirely ruined. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. A small voice greeted her, hissing.
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