" "Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man. Sheppard had been interred. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other. He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door. He had not remembered her as looking so small.
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