She entered and approached the bunk. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife. That's a queer yarn. “Show me around you house, John. I MUST. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. ” “Really,” she said, with a hard little laugh, “you must regard me as a very goodnatured person. "I guessed as much. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended.
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