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It appeared highly probable to her that he would stop her allowance. 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. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask.
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