But there was only this onetwisted hawthorn. So Strange wrote to hisservant, a man called Jeremy Johns. *Italian party. He had heard her story often as he went about the city, but until he hadseen her with his own eyes he had dismissed it as a mere fable, a tale to frighten the youngand foolish.
But I have made a list of all that she has told me and I have begun to findcorrespondences between them and ancient fairy lore. Shelooked at him doubtfully. Presumably they belonged toother travellers. Off you go.
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