It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. \" She said. " "Well, well—wait awhile," returned Quilt; "his lordship won't forget you. " Just then, the infant began to sob piteously. 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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