Gerald tried it. Wood, in equal trepidation. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. F. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. ‘Gerald had to change both shirt and breeches. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly.
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