You must dispose of the goldsmith's note I gave you yesterday, as soon as you arrive at Rotterdam. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. All at once she became aware of sounds outside. If anyone noticed, he did not report the event. 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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