"You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. “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. "You repeated the word 'Fool' over and over. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head.
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