"Within the last few minutes, all my guilty life has passed before me. 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. “But perhaps I want to confess them. ” “All these things,” he muttered bitterly, “this desperate resolve to take your life into your own hands, your unnatural craving for independence, would never trouble you for a moment—if you really cared. Spurlock felt very well pleased with himself. ” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered.
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