The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. Her fingers rested upon his. You should have confided in me, and fallen in with my plan at the beginning. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. He flipped the television off.
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