The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. ” Anna’s eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing. 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. ’ ‘Merci. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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