There are three constants to be expected when walking on a brisk Corsican afternoon: a warm breeze at your tail, an impassioned support (or contentious rebuttal) of the radical new chestnut-tree tax, and an unprovoked invitation to wed a charming if not slightly bemused local girl
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Or do you prefer a girl with bounce in her step as well as her beet-red curls? Miss Kate may be the one you seek!
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"They can't legally kill you anymore, but if you don't bear a son you'll be nothing but a shameful embarassment to us for all your days."
She should be able to pick up around the house, too.
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Ahem, no. I find myself inclined to search other avenues for a mate.
[Also he's fucking Bryn who is one of the brides 'up for sale'.]
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A hunting man, eh? Be sure to lead them three steps with your tranq.
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Oh, of course. Can't scare them skittish ones away.
[Brb dying of lol.]
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Got to flush them out of the underbrush first.
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Let me know how it works out for you though.
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