The tears flowed faster. “You certainly got him in the bag. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Wood rushed instantly to meet them.
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