‘I don’t think he deserved that, Melusine. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. I believed I was strong enough to go on in silence; but I'm human like everybody else. 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. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved.
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