‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. ’ Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. 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. " "What is it?" "That you give 'em to me. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. She's not for pleasure, but for work.
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