It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her.
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