" The Wastrel rushed. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. " "It is life. ” “Afraid!” “Yes. . “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. ” She glared at him balefully. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. I was always told my mother died the day I was born.
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