Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. ” Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. It was owing to the untimely end of this poor fellow that Mrs. She wished he could smoke and dull his nerves a little. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. “Mrs.
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