I am. 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. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. Never a new-born dragon-fly that spread its wings in the morning has felt as glad as I!” CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH IN PERSPECTIVE Part 1 About four years and a quarter later—to be exact, it was four years and four months—Mr.
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