It was a moment before he recognised that the effect had been similar on all those present, including General Lord Charvill. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. Accounted extremely pretty in her youth, her features and person expanded as she grew older, without much detriment to their original comeliness. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly.
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