” “No doubt. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. " "We won't trust you, my youngster," answered the janizary. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife. I mean—I mean to do what I can. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price.
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