“Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. She held out both her hands. ” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod.
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