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. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. “She finds lying up so much very irksome. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself.
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