“Oh! I wish,” she said, “that people thought alike about these things. " The hint was not lost upon Wood. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. " "On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!" replied Jack, passionately. .
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