Grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles and aunts … to love and to coddle lonely little girls. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. “That’s not. ” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears.
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