He looked at her levelly. There was something in his eyes, a sort of quizzical admiration; she wondered if it was simply admiration of Jessamine’s looks. β€œNo,” he said. β€œNo, even though you are the perfect picture of Jessamine, I can see Tessa through it somehow as if, if I were to scrape away a layer of paint, there would be my Tessa underneath.” β€œI am not your Tessa either.” The light sparkling in his eyes dimmed. β€œFair enough,” he said. β€œI suppose you are not.

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