Three blows to remind her who she is, that underneath she is nothing, not a great duchess in her castle or a secret agent or a damsel waiting to be rescued, nothing of the sort. Nobody knows what will become of her, and nobody cares. Nobody cares about the stranger either, the wife in the house alone, envied and despised by the town, but happier than any of them. Nobody cares about her, but she doesn’t care about any of them either. Violet dropped her voice to a whisper. She cares least of all about you.
