“You know what else is yours?” “Mmm . . .” They considered the matter. “A severely overpriced hat I cannot recall purchasing?” “No.” “A coat of black sable gifted to me by Alexander I of Russia?” “No, but I’m going to have to see that.” “An unparalleled voice? Exquisite taste? Overwhelming beauty?” Orfeo paused, a hint of uncertainty in their manner at variance with their words. “Or perhaps you mean . . . you.” “I do mean me,” said Peggy. “How much do I owe you?” “For me? I think you’ll find I’m priceless.”
