But let that verse tell my secret. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. Have I your final answer?" "You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly.
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