They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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