It will hold aloof, a little undecided whether to pelt or not—” “That depends whether we carry ourselves as though we expected pelting,” said Ann Veronica. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her.
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