On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being.
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