“It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. “It’s precious unromantic. I have a big breakfast. My first visit will be to you. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. I want to be whatever I can to you. What has been the matter?” “Toothache,” he answered laconically. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her.
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