‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother.
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