The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. Do not slight my warning. All right. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. Ann Veronica blushed. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again.
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