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Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. “Both. 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. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. She was shaking violently when she entered the side door of the house.
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