She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold.
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