He had more time for her. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. I said I’d make shirts. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. Quite right. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere.
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