She loved for him to regale her with the stories of his past, the days of ancient Greece. She held up the lamp. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.
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