There was nothing to be learned from her face. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. 1. CHAPTER XIV Ruth lost the point entirely.
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