Pat Bliggin’s mind was undoubtedly wandering, so a drastic question was in order.,
The whistle shrilled up the narrow valley, echoing back and forth from the steep green hills that bounded it.,
“Can you forgive me, Nell? This guiding star of Moses is our guiding star, too.” After a moment Howard continued, “I wish we could transplant this morning-glory into our garden, don’t you?”.
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