The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. The latch came with a weak click. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration.
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