The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. They were sharp and dripping with black blood. ‘How fascinating. I want to be a person by myself, and to pull my own strings. Lucy wore it every day from then on.
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