‘Exactement. He had been quite right to sit down. Well, you shall know. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. A broken laugh followed the action. Drummond had made an abominable mistake. 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.
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