“She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. ‘That’s better. A fever of shame ran through her being. Why would your mother be so impatient?” Lucy speculated. She was, she guessed, close to the library. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. They clapped wildly afterward. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman.
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