“Oh, if you pretend to credit that, there is nothing to say!” said Clarissa contemptuously. “But everyone knows what truly happened, and if you were not so in love with him you would too. Everyone knows your precious Mr. Wythe is a murderer!” The roses in Henrietta’s cheeks deepened to a flush. “Henny!” cried Prunella in a tone of warning, but she had left it too late to avert disaster. Henrietta could never govern her abilities at times of strong emotion. She did not mean to cast spells when she was happy or sad or angry, she said, but the spells seemed to cast themselves. The air in the
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