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” Carolyn shushed him modestly. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. . Let me bind you up, and then you can attend to her. ” “Have I done something wrong? Should I take you home?” “No.
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