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In Montana, running into the Missouri River from the south, is a little stream that the Blackfeet call "It Fell on Them." Once, long, long ago, while a number of women were digging in a bank near this stream for the red earth that they used as paint, the bank gave way and fell on them, burying and killing them. The white people call this Armell's Creek. "Who on earth are you speaking to?" says Geoffrey. On the middle of the rustic bridge before mentioned he stops her, to say, unexpectedly,—.
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Conrad
She says it all quite simply, with a smile, and a quick blush that arises merely from the effort of having to explain, not from the explanation itself. There is not a touch of malice in her soft eyes or on her parted lips. "Oh, indeed!" says Mona; and then, with downcast eyes, "but I don't know, because you never told me before." Whereupon every one thinks he is a bold and daring man thus to risk fortune again. "An aim!" he says, bitterly. "I think I have found an end to my life where most fellows find a beginning.".
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