" "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. There was little fighting spirit here. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. "Something's wrong. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest.
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