Lady Finch stood before the Palace while Tarence added a new girl’s name to the golden marque that glowed before the Crystal Palace’s door. Satinka had done all that she promised. The world worshipped her shape as the projectors sent her curves and swells dancing across the glass towers, and Lady Finch didn’t doubt that Satinka, the magic dancer, would live forever, or at least no less longer than all those spires that defined the western shore. The towers had never looked so magnificent.
And all the polishers soon returned to her Crystal Palace in droves. Perhaps a buffalo herd no longer stampeded across the shores for their hunt, but the polishers, who cleaned such reflection and shadow, still craved for something more, and so they still returned to offer many a shiner to those lovely girls who danced for their pleasure.