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. This was his humiliation as well as hers. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. I do not know. She went to market every day to fetch the daily bread and more herbs for more medicines and potions, plus treats for the apprentices made of honey and almond paste. But for him——” Something in her sister’s tone startled Anna.
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