“Why not?” He repeated, demanding. ” “I am convinced of it,” she answered. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular.
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