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. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. She peered into the darkness. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. " So saying, he closed the lantern. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said.
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