She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. But I’m not a slut either, if that’s what you think. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. ‘You see, it is that I am a female, and you all are men. They give themselves airs, but so it is. He must be tied behind the carriage. I am loved.
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