It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. Only her babe died.
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