‘You do not dare look in my clothes. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. This is a tale of two young fools. 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. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor.
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