Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. “When did you start?” She said between puffs. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent.
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