“When it comes there is no mistaking it. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other.
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