You pass by an opulent estate as you stroll through the richer part of the New Orleans streets, and you spy a young lady lounging on the veranda, fanning herself with an ostrich-feather fan. She seems to spot you too, her eyes looking you over, critically. You can tell she’s wealthy just by looking at her.
“May I inquire as to your purpose here, you don’t look like most folks that live in this city.” She says, her elegant voice laced with the honeyed drawl of the Deep South.
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