“Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable.
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