The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. Montressor’s guests were. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. ” He closed the door of 109 in her face. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. He embraced her fully.
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