‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle.
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