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Miss Satterly watched him gallop up the long slope and the pluckety pluckety of Glory's fleeing feet struck heavy, numbing blows upon her heart. She wondered why she had refused to ride with him, when she did want to go she did. And why had she been so utterly hateful, after waiting and watching, night after night, for him to come? And just how much did he mean by being due to drift?
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