“It isn’t quite that we’re toys. Still —there you are!” He paused. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. He is Jacques. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. ” She said fretfully. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. Even our coarseness. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me.
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