She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. . . But it was not so ordered. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. I said as how I’d tell Mr Jarvis as he wanted to take you away. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. "Much that I would willingly forget.
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