She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. “You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. " "Look here, my boy, that attitude is all damned nonsense.
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