“Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney. ’ ‘Wait!’ Leaning forward, Hilary tapped on the panel. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. 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.
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