” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. “But what can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. ’ ‘Where then is your uniform?’ ‘I don’t wear it to balls. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the author.
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