Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. Open it. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. Just one thing more. You hurt the child. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. ” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner.
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