She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. That’s the fact of the matter. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. Fate has two methods of procedure—the sudden and the long-drawn-out.
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