Or perhaps my father once. Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. He will tell you confidentially that he simply hates the place. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. "It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save my life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming.
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