” “She has chances?” he said, helping her out. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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