"Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. The bridesmaids and pages got rather jumbled in the aisle, and she had an effect of Alice’s white back and sloping shoulders and veiled head receding toward the altar. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened.
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