’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. 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. ’ ‘A mistake, I agree. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. In the middle there was a gate. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off. For she and this old lady became at once friends. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said.
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