"You cannot understand me, Madam; and it is well you cannot. ’ For the space of half a minute, Gerald continued to scowl in silent frustration. 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. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. ” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid.
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