Monday: “I like Meg. Heaven did not strike me down for kissing her, so perhaps it would not object if I married her.”
Tuesday: “I do not know what is so funny,” she gasped, even as she failed to curb her perplexing mirth.
Wednesday: "I vow, I will be quite proud of my pretty, plump wife.”
Thursday: (Another day out of town)
Friday: “Perhaps Christina could be content with a holy pilgrimage,” he said, apparently sensing his offer of a hair shirt had not been enough to persuade her.
Saturday: “If I were…different,” he murmured, his palms still over his eyes, “and could have my choice of all the women in the world, having spent this one night with Christina, I would choose her alone for my wife.”
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