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Truth Behind Closed Doors

“Oh come now, Maisy! You are being utterly ridiculous.” Her cousin scoffed with a quick roll of her bright blue eyes.

I am being ridiculous!? You are the one who was galavanting around London, like some silly school girl. Really, Zahra, you should show some propriety! Or at least self-respect.” Maisy shot back, glaring at her cousin as she picked out the brightest red dress from her wardrobe.

“You should stop trying to control me. You are not my mother.” Zahra laughed as her maid quickly began helping her into the dress.

“This is pointless. I’m leaving and I will see you at dinner. Try not to make us look like fools.” Maisy huffed and stomped to her room next door.

Maisy frowned, walking over to her wardrobe. Her parents had been very kind in giving her so many dresses. Not a single one was red. Or any other color besides tans and creams. And that was when the most depressing thought occurred to Maisy. She wanted red, and she wanted galavanting, and she could never have any of it.

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