Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. ” “I will have your reason for this,” he said. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize me.
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