When she looked up again she saw that Clara had stepped back a bit and was looking at Gus, her face shining with happiness. It was hot and the blowflies were already buzzing over the horse blood, but those were trivial discomforts. It wasn't his fault, though, Newt said. She had seen the boy often, looking at her window.
She thought a moment. That horse never had no sense, Roy Suggs remarked. To Call's great relief, the storm blew itself out in three hours. His boots were a tight fit, and it was almost impossible to get them on over wet socks.
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