" "A penny, if you please, Sir," said the hawker. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. She spoke slowly. By instinct.
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