’ Gerald frowned. " "And you want me to find a minister?" she asked, with ready comprehension. . It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Girls screamed in chorus. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily.
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