"Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It has something to do with the fact that my Mom had them when she was only seventeen. You will observe that a coronet is embroidered on it. Just my room. 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. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue.
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