She felt very awkward as she stared at 103 the top of his ashen hair. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. “I don’t know why. The imbecile. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. ‘For my money, you’ll not get much out of old Jarvis either. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied.
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