The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. The door leaned inward. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem.
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