"It must be hard on her," acquiesced Patricia. "Why didn't she get something else to do?"
lottery face, Poor Mr. Carter said when Billy cut his teeth that a neighbour's baby can be worse than your own. He didn't like children, and the baby's crying disturbed him, so many a night I walked Billy out in the garden until daylight, while Mr. Carter and Dr. John both slept. Always his little, warm, wilty body has comforted me for the emptiness of not having a little one of my own. And he's very congenial, too, for he's slim and flowery, pink and dimply, and as mannish as his father, in funny little flashes.
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lottery face "Patricia!" gasped Judith, shocked out of her dreamy calm. "You oughtn't to say things like that. It's—it's not religious!".
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