Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile.
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