" "How?" exclaimed the other. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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