It was exactly as Sebastian had foreseen. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. Every other wall comprised bookcases, except where the doors appeared. She loved to be told to do things. The boy would never know just how lucky he was. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. I do not wish to return to Paris.
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