” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. When he tried the scullery door, and would have moved on, Hilary intervened. His eyes closed. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself.
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