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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. “My child, I do not wish. What is he—English or American?" "American. 7. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. Wood. “You must pack for me. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. Tears sprang to her eyes. ’ ‘Exactly so. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley.
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