She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. A. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. "I am here, you see," said the smith. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation.
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