It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. “My God!” he said again. If you talk of your faults, I shall talk of your splendors. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley.
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