” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. 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. It was ended. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. He could not tell whether she was English or American. To Spurlock's observing eye, Enschede's wrinkles multiplied and the folds in his clothes.
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