She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well.
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