"Anne shook her head, tumbling her long and unruly curls. "Never heard of him." He has asked your father to pay you court." Who, this Vanmeter person,...he wants to marry me?" Her voice broke, squeaked in her throat, and she gritted her teeth, embarrassed.The woman smiled briefly at the girl's discomfort. "Indeed, he might. He is from a very good family. His father is a planter with a slew of mills and his grandfather was a ship builder I believe, down on the Pocomoke. His uncle by marriage knows. “Now can I tell you?”“Uh, you can, but can I ask your name? I’m Ingrid Mulderhoek.” I offered my hand.She shook it, but was clearly worried. “Do I need to show you my ID?”“No. You can even tell me a fake name. I won’t disrespect you for that.”“I got no use for respect. My sons fuck me.”“Yes, you told me.”“What else should I tell you?”“I’m sorry, do you mind if I explain a little about how this works?“Okay.” She seemed agreeable to anything. “But isn’t that what I asked?”“Hmm, it is.” Her vapid. More

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