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Ethan Frome
171
and his hand went over and over her face, and he felt that the twittering came from her lips . . .
He got his face down close to hers, with his ear to her mouth, and in the darkness he saw her eyes open and heard her say his name.
"Oh, Matt, I thought we'd fetched it," he moaned; and far off, up the hill, he heard the sorrel whinny, and thought: "I ought to be getting him his feed. . ."
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