‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. There was a young lad ahead of her. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain.
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