’ A peal of laughter came from the girl. ’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. Spurlock bent his head to the rail. 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.
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