" CHAPTER XIX. Now let us forget it. He may die. A riding-habit is all I have seen. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. “Why?” He inquired. " "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. " "I know what is good," she replied. ” Another differed. " "You read those yarns?" Spurlock's head came about, and there was eagerness in his eyes. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. After I took the bills it was too late to turn back. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it.
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