Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. ‘You will like to marry me, yes?’ she pursued. And the fences are down for good. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands.
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