Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. I didn’t go out of my way or anything. “How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. She was practically an outcast, she had not even the ghost of a plan as to her future, and she had something less than five pounds in her pocket. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. She felt herself shaking again.
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