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Chapter 31

  • I was oddly tense, and I didn't know why. Or maybe I did, and I was trying to shelve my feelings. Perhaps if I didn't acknowledge them, they would fade away. Beside me, Anton was droning on and on about all he had gotten up to with the Paris model, now in his employ. Anton, naturally, was an excellent conversationist and a good storyteller, and usually, I would be neck-deep in his stories, laughing and asking for more details.
  • But not today.
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