"But, let me tell you, it's not a pleasant sight to see the girl one likes in the arms of another. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. 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. I have—run away.
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