She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. My opportunities have been immense, and my failure utter. 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.
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