The world is like a peppery horse. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her.
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