The boy was right. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society.
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