He was profoundly stirred. “Can you take any from me?” “No, I won’t do that. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. Laughed at me, then. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. But you belong to me—and I want you. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. . ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled.
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