Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. ” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. O'Higgins returned to town and made a night of it, nothing very wild, nothing very desperate. The stipendiary would have done it all very differently.
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