“He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. “It’s precious unromantic. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger.
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