"First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. His tongue was hot. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. Part 3 Later they loitered along a winding path above the inn, and made love to one another. .
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