Put your arms around her and tell her you love her. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. After we have got the Vote and are recognized as citizens, then we can come to all these other things. 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. “I want to speak to you.
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