Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword.
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