207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. “I am already so hungry that I shall begin on the petit pains. “All right, Dunster,” he said. Majorities, right or wrong, dare not revolt.
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