Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. You are nothing of the sort.
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