Softly she rose to her feet. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. 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. "A hundred dollars which was left from your husband's money. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand. —I do not congratulate you on your success.
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