He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. 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. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing.
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