Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. " Lady Trafford sighed deeply. You are my slave—and such you shall continue.
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