Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. " She kindled with sympathy. " "Go on, tell me," he urged, enchanted. 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 did all for the best, I'm sure. "How have you contrived to still these troubled waters?" "I've chanced upon an old ally in the Master of the Mint," answered Rowland.
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