He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. “It was perhaps my fault. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed.
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