One group at the door attracted Jack's attention, inasmuch as it was composed of several of his old acquaintances—Mr. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself.
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