She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. Lucy replied, \"My hair has a mind of its own. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. “It’s okay, Michelle. ‘It needs not that you tell me.
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