She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. ” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep.
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