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Page 105
than helped him; his anguish was etched even deeper in the lowering of his brow, the pain in his eyes, the set of his narrowed lips.
"Your chores still await you, Miss Walker. Go." He was not gentle as he pulled her to the door and thrust her outside.
But she turned and stepped in front of him before he could disappear into the house. Ignoring his angry scowl, she ventured, "Your laundry . . . ?"
She nearly smiled at the show of emotions that eased his fury for just a moment: amazement, maybe even a glimmer of admiration. "I'll bring it, Miss Walker." He hesitated. "Thank you."

 
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