“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. But as the students sat about Miss Garvice’s tea-pot and drank tea or smoked cigarettes, the talk got away from Capes. 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. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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