Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day.
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