Angeline clad in a maid gown could be seen moving swiftly down the long, marble-lined corridor, her head lowered and her face shaded by a sheer veil.
The elegant folds of her gown modestly brushed against the polished floors as she hastened, the lights in the corridor shining brighter than the ones she had seen in the other corridor she had passed before.
She did well to hide the echoes of her footsteps as she hastened, hoping and praying that she would not be noticed and exposed and that she would find the right room.
Angeline kept her gaze fixed on the floor as if caught in a private trance. She determinedly focused her mind on her task.
As she approached the guards stationed at the far end of the corridor, she kept her pace steady and her head still lowered. She could feel their eyes swept over her. Thankfully, Angeline believed that they failed to identify her through the veil that shrouded her face. Her identity was well-guarded by the little pieces of cloth.
