The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. So this was what it was all about. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm. "You repeated the word 'Fool' over and over. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. ” “I had to,” she repeated. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. His face was white. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives.
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