“Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. “My Mom makes more money than my Dad, a lot more. “I am frightened now. It was a purse. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. Opals. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said.
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