She came out in it.
It suited her completely. It knocked about eight hundred years off her. James, who had learned some hard lessons this week about which observations were worth making out loud, said nothing whatsoever.
Alice looked at herself in the mirror for two seconds, went back in, came out in her own clothes, and put the burgundy jumper on top of the pile in her arms without comment.
Nyra's head came round.
She did not say anything either.
She simply looked at the pile, and then at Alice, and then went back to the sunglasses with the serene, glowing, insufferable expression of a person who has won an argument that was never formally held.
James caught it, and pressed his knuckle against his mouth, and had to look at the ceiling for a second.
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