’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones.
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