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Giles's bowl, "as his last refreshment on earth. 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. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. "Take him to the bilbowes. "Breathe at this phial," said Winifred.
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