’ Chapter Ten ‘I am come on a mission of some delicacy, ma’am,’ Gerald said calmly to the old lady. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. 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. Unexpectedly he found himself speeding toward the father.
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