The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. But from the rest—you saved me. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. If only monsieur le baron had said nothing, or perhaps instead accepted the couple as the Valades and agreed to help them. I went to the theatre that night. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify.
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