Oh, it was very bad. " "I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn," interposed Sharples, "at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. "What in the world is it?" he asked. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form.
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