” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. His eyes closed. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. ” He writhed. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation.
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