Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. Spurling had retired for the night.
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