I opened the carpetbag, took out the boater, shut the bag and carried it back into the circle. I set the bag down and put the boater on at a jaunty angle that would have made Lord Peter proud. “Ned,” Verity said, stepping back, her greenish-brown eyes wide. “Harriet,” I said, and pulled her back into the already shining net. And kissed her for a hundred and sixty-nine years.
Swoon.
