" "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. ” “There is great deal more,” she answered coldly. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds. " He opened his eyes, to behold hers large with wonder. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside.
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