’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. "I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. ” He stopped abruptly. Celeste he knew.
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