He patted the hand on his sleeve. " "Come this way, Mr. It has something to do with the fact that my Mom had them when she was only seventeen. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind.
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