’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. “But your sister?” he asked. And I have wanted to so very much. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires.
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