" And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. Kneebone," returned Shotbolt. 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. They were sitting alone, Lucy. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her.
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