" "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. "Fire! That was what drew me to you in the beginning. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. He glanced up at the coachman.
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