Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. “I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your private life. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. It makes me desire life beyond measure.
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