Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. But one of these days everything will click back into place. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope.
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