And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. " "Mrs. And we won’t make it so. I have had my day; and there were women in it. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff.
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