“Sorry, pardon me, thank you,” she murmured. But her attention was focused on a book she held open in one hand, and Devon doubted she even knew whose company she’d joined. Whatever it was she read filled her eyes with enthrallment, and as she turned a page she seemed to hold her breath in anticipation. Watching her, Devon found himself holding his own breath too. He was being foolish; he knew it. The woman might be pretty, but she was also a rival in the field, an academic foe, an associate of the unscrupulous Hippolyta Quirm, and so very pretty the air around her seemed to glow. The
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