I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. I'll call it my wedding gift. ’ And with that he went off to the City, stern and silent, leaving his bacon on his plate—a great slice of bacon hardly touched. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. . .
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