“What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. I tell you, that girl would jump into the sea, rather. Each human contact leaves some indelible mark.
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