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The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. ’ Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. “Do you want some of mine?” “Yes. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. Is it an old ring?” he asked, returning it. "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain.
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