A month or two into the relationship, Miranda groggily signed off from a 
long Princess Nell session and was astounded to notice that she'd been going 
for eight hours without a break. Her throat was raw, and she hadn't been to the 
loo in hours. She had made a lot of money. And the time in New York was 
something like six in the morning, which made it seem unlikely that the little 
girl lived there. She must be in a time zone not many hours different from 
Miranda's, and she must sit there playing with that ractive storybook all day 
long instead of going to school like a little rich girl should. It was slim 
evidence to go on, but Miranda never needed much evidence to confirm her belief 
that rich parents were just as capable of fucking with their children's minds 
as anyone.