Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet.
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