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’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. Smith, placing his hand on his breast. 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.
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