loving

Anne’s beauty-loving eyes lingered on it all, taking everything greedily in.

This toast, recalling at once the patient exile of Hartwell and the peace-loving King of France, excited universal enthusiasm; glasses were elevated in the air à l’Anglaise, and the ladies, snatching their bouquets from their fair bosoms, strewed the table with their floral treasures.

“When the Witch is dead, come to me, and I will then give you the biggest and kindest and most loving heart in all the Land of Oz.”

I’m just loving it.