” “Except,” said Constance, surveying her work with her head on one side, “to keep the matches from the litter. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. “I’ve been,” she said, “forbidden to come. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. . She would ignore him.
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