She could manage the major. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. "We're forgetting," he said. The plank hung over his head. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him.
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