Saviour's Stairs. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. ‘I can argue with him very well indeed. It is not at all comme il faut.
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