” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again. 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. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. He laughed to hide his uneasiness.
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