“But I am at singing-pitch. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. ’ ‘Ah yes. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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