Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. They had refused. I don’t suppose you could tell me even the derivation of suffrage if I asked you. When Captain Darrell's birth is ascertained, I've no doubt he'll turn out a nobleman's son.
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