Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. There were two sisters, you know. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. But days had now passed. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise.
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