“It—it—must come,” she faltered. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Wood's present position, and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. They even talked about friendship. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed.
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