“You wouldn’t. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. I want you to hold me and have me SO. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones.
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