” “Of how beautiful my children would be?” He finished her sentence. . She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. ‘And for you, monsieur le major, it will be well if you do not make me a shock like this again. We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different.
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