Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. Capes flashed to an understanding of her intention, sprang to his feet, and opened the door for her retreat. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice.
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