(A duke wrote a sonnet about her hair two seasons ago. She called the verses "quaint.")Hester was wiping flour—covered fingers on her apron. She was...small and fine, and anyone would admit she was pretty, but gentlemen of every stripe stayed away from her, and no one would have dared write her poetry. She said nothing to Porphyria, but instead went back to the kitchen and continued rolling out dough on the sideboard. Porphyria waited as long as her patience would bear and then coughed. Hester. After trekking for a few minutes they reached a vast field and pointing it out 'this is what I have toiled for my whole life and it is all yours' she said as she sat down under a tree. Vinit was numb hearing this and did not know how to reply back. 'Ma, tell me about those days' he said. 'It is a long story but to cut it short it was good till it lasted' she replied wiping the sweat with the top of her sari. Our clan was a small one and had its own culture which was weird. 'Why do you call it. More

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