The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. A group of ten began emerging outside the ticket area. Even though I knew you’d no one else to care. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. "Ah!" ejaculated Mrs.
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