These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. Mr. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. It seemed as if all the precautions previously taken were here accumulated. So, then, when McClintock offered the coveted haven, Spurlock became afire to dramatize the idea.
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