" Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. She had always loved babies, like you! We ran away to the Barbars, back then, the land of the barbarian North. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately.
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