“It’s a question of upbringing, Sophie! Can you picture him going to Benedict Lightwood and saying he wants to marry a mundane, and a parlor maid to boot? Can you see him doing that?” Sophie’s face twisted. “You don’t know anything,” she said. “You don’t know what he’d do for us—” “You mean the training?” Tessa was incredulous. “Sophie, really—” But Sophie, shaking her head, had gathered up her skirts and stalked from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Tessa. Shut the fuck up.
