Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. He saw, without any particular regret, that this year he would have to forego the junket; but there would be ample compensation in the study of these queer youngsters. Perhaps she was. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection.
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