Fair Margaret

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[...]well they matched the hair of chestnut, shading into black, that waved above them and fell, tress upon tress, upon the shapely shoulders and down to the slender waist. Peter Brome, for he was so named, looked a little anxiously about him at the crowd, then, turning, addressed Margaret in his strong, clear voice. "There are rough folk around," he said; "do you think you should stop here? Your father might be angered, Cousin." [...].