“I am sick of it. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. “Parmesan—take it away!” He glanced at Ann Veronica’s face, and it seemed to him that she really was exceptionally radiant.
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