Mr. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. “What has she told you?” “Everything. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true.
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