" "What motive can you have for so vile a deed?" asked Mrs. Missy is into the witchcraft stuff, Wicca, nothing bad or anything. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. He hated the taste of it. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature.
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