"Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. They seed beyond all reason. .
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