Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room.
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