" "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. No— no, it must never be. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. 1. " "But I never can forget it, Winny. You are not unlike Pandora. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps.
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