She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. 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. Wood. “I think,” he said, “that I am right. He did not love Ruth. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face.
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