“Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. “Lucy! You found me! I was just about to sleep some of those rum and Cokes off like the pig I am. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine.
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