Her hormones were raging stupidly. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. " With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. .
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