Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. ” “We do.
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