The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She was with these movements—akin to them, she felt it at times intensely—and yet something eluded her. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. Just as he had succeeded in fixing his attention, it was again shaken, and he was almost unnerved by the sight of Mr. “Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said.
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