She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. "Farewell for ever," said Jack, extending his hand to Mrs. "Here's the door. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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