“I wondered. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the streets. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. The spinsters had purchased one grass-linen tablecloth; the girl and the young man had purchased nothing. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water.
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