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As I approached, he drew me towards him, where he had sunk on the dingy, orange-fringed sofa. "N-ow, y're a nice young fellow a bit scrawny, though. Ye gotta horse?" I shook my head. "N-ow, then ye aughtta have a h-orse. Yer pappy should see to't." His gray eyes, then almost blue against the loose brown skin of his face, held me speechless. "N-ow I gotta horse a fine horse fur a boy.
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