“She wished she hadn’t succumbed to irritation. Because she wanted to know about his inner feelings. She always thought people were like pieces of art glass – strong enough to handle and use, delicate enough to shatter under a strong blow, and filled with swirls of color that fascinated the eye. But while most people – and most glass – allowed light through, she could discern nothing of Devlin’s heart and soul through the smoke and mirrors he held before him.”
