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... t!" Isabella gasped, slapping Ophelia’s arm lightly. "I told him it was bark, not beast meat!"
The two leaned in even closer now, their foreheads nearly touching as they huddled over the bubbling soap mix like conspirators.
"We should do something," Ophelia whispered, eyes sparkling with pure mischief. "Matchmake."
"Tempting," Isabella murmured, voice low and dangerous. "But if we meddle too much, he might throw a gourd at us."
"He nearly did earlier!"
"Th ...
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