‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. Talk to her of the new story; divert her; for this day her heart has been twisted sorely. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey.
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