Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. She went to her own table and sat down. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. E. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends. “I like your brother better than any other man I know,” Anna said at last.
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