She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. Manning in fancy costume, as though he was a doll. Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again.
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