"No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. ” Ann Veronica was about to reply, when he went on, with a still more deadly quiet: “I am not here to bandy words with you. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. We were two people with a craving. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered.
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