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. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. “So your father brought you here to live in the States?” John asked. " "Mr. " "That's better. Nasty, damp passages.
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