No people at all, though, and that was giving him a queer feeling in his water. Aye, there was a war on, right enough, and many of the menfolk were gone, but the farmhouses hadn't been sacrificed to the war effort, had they? The women were running the farms, feeding the nation, all that-he'd heard the PM on the radio praising them for it only last week. So where the bloody hell was everybody? The
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ A Leaf on the Wind of All ]
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