“Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. She is something different. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books.
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