He's got the gift of the gab. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. The boy would never know just how lucky he was. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Go to her.
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