Sublime

An angular scrawl was all that was left of her beautiful curling signature, but it was soon recognized and loved all over Haarlem.

no

Grace Macaulay, then: seventeen, small and plump, with skin that went brown by the end of May. Her hair was black and oily, and had the hot consoling scent of an animal in summer. She disliked books, and was by nature a thief if she found a thing to be beautiful, but not hers. She didn’t know she couldn’t sing. She was inclined to be cross.

enervated

countenance.