‘You’re speaking the truth. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. ’ ‘I do not marry a man who makes me a threat like this,’ she flashed. Not a breath was drawn. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly.
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