She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. ‘You said she was beautiful. It reminded Ann Veronica of having a tooth stopped. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. 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.
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