“HASSELL’S CAMP, “NEAR COLORADO. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. So he's come around, then? That's fine. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. ” His arms were around her. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. ’ ‘Eh? Why did you not say so, man?’ demanded Hilary crossly.
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