The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. ‘I should never have told you. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer.
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