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. “It is you alone, Nigel, who have saved me from being an old maid. There was a deep groan, and the sound of a fall within. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. But those days are over—quite over.
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