There’d only be endless rows if I was at home. ‘You can’t go to England. Where I am in error, you can set me right. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. " "If he had only been my father!—McClintock!" "God didn't standardize human beings, Ruth; no grain of wheat is like another. " "What a life!" "No worse than yours.
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