. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. . She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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