Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. But it would serve. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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