“How’s the star?” John’s father asked. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. ” She rolled over on her face, and stuffed her fingers in her ears to shut out the rhythm from her mind. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. “All the time he is shouting and muttering.
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