So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. A fortnight passed, then a month. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. Brother and Sister. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. Now, I know you can restore him to his rights, if you choose.
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