She turned back into the hall. The second look told me I was wrong. The Ragged Edge. Her favor was sought beyond all women’s favors. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience.
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