It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. She prevaricated. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. Courtlaw. 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.
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