” He shrugged his shoulders. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. .
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