After that consolations fled. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair.
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