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That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood.
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