Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. 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. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. Capes—the ‘Capes crave,’ they would call it in America. She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace.
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