#220756 - The house was still and silent. Yellow sunlight seeped through the thin curtains as Miriam Hargreaves sat at the antique vanity table in the corner of the grand bedroom, delicately applying her make-up. Miriam, who had recovered her composure, pushed herself up onto her elbows and turned to see Bridget standing, slightly bent over, with her hands resting on the desk, looking over her shoulder at Miriam.
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