“I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. "Spring!—I never knew any. “It’s the spring,” he said. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said.
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