Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. " He stuffed the printed chintz into her arms and smiled into her eyes. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. Wood," she continued, in an authoritative tone, seeing her husband ready to depart, "one word before you set out. .
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