In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. My heart misgives me. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel.
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