She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. Annabel entered. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t want no gold! Not for serving my mistress. ‘Parbleu, you are deaf perhaps? It is seen that you are very old, certainly.
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