Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. "That's a fine tale," said Spurlock. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. I’m a little tired. "What's the matter with the man?" demanded Wild. ’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box.
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