Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. "Give me your thorough-paced villain. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. He gave glimpses of possibilities. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me. But before the child could be committed to her care, it was wrested from the carpenter by Rowland. 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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