She walked through the walls. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Carefully sustaining the child which, even in that terrible extremity, he had not the heart to abandon, he fell upon his knees, and, guiding himself with his right hand, crept slowly on. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. “I’m not a good woman.
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