Wood; "I'll not bear it. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. 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. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London.
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