She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. "They'll escape. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. 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. She found a little difficulty in beginning. .
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