207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. ‘Merely making a useful contact. Fortescue, with a bow.
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