Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. “It’s your birthday today, May Day. Sebastian became furious and would have killed the man had he not been drafted into battle within the week. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. \" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating.
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