All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. My birthday was on May first. Stanley’s pace slackened. "Perhaps he means well. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat.
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