Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Ruth was strong in body and soul. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. "Not so;" answered Wild. Sheppard stopped him. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily.
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