\"Do not tell me that you have not asked her yet, fool, or I will be forced to dump the rest of that soda over your head. ’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell.
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