There was a hint of tears in her voice. This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. Look at me. “Why?” he asked, suavely. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Vorsack. " He stuffed the printed chintz into her arms and smiled into her eyes. I would do anything—I would give anything to make you mine.
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