The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. You were wide the mark, physically; otherwise you had him pat. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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