He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. “Please search everywhere,” she said. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia.
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