She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. ‘Very well, never mind. “It is Rhea’s infant. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. ‘Your niece, ma’am. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it.
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