" "I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn," interposed Sharples, "at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby.
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