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” She played with her hair. 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. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. ’ ‘Not until you release that dagger. ” “The life of a young girl is set about with prowling pitfalls, from which she must be shielded at all costs. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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