The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. ” She gestured to an abandoned farmhouse down a long stretch of icy dirt road. " "A capital caricature that," remarked Thornhill, laughing.
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