’ ‘How could he when he didn’t even handle it himself? Went off, I told you, and left it all to me. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. It moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. 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.
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