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 wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale.
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