His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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