A NovelLarge Print - 2019
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“Your rose.’ She stood, leaned down, and breathed in its scent. ‘Mr. Gardner’s antique.’
‘When I went back to the house I found it in Agnessa’s ruined hothouse. Kept it alive since I left Russia.’
Luba stroked a petal. ‘Poor lost roses. Like us, I suppose.” - p. 370
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