‘For instance, why have you reverted to your nun’s habit for this particular adventure?’ ‘That is easy. Show him no quarter, Poll. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig.
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