“It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone.
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