Jack turned away with an aching heart. Mirrors. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. Vorsack sauntered into the room, sporting her usual toothy thin254 lipped grin. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course.
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