She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
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