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. ‘Sir?’ Hilary threw a brief glance at Trodger, and quickly returned his intent gaze to the Frenchman, who had halted once more, and stood as if thinking deeply. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. . She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night.
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