He turned, and stood looking in silence at the two figures bending over the little bed. Catherine had one arm under the child’s head, and was smoothing back the hair from Gwen’s forehead. The child’s eyes were closed, her face flushed. Tugler saw her turn restlessly from her mother’s arm, as though the least touch was feverishly resented.
“And tell the next-door people to strangle that confounded pigeon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me of this before, Murchison with her, he would sanction
everything at oncehe answered.?”
“Tell you what?”
“About the child.”
Murchison glanced at him blankly.
“Well, it was my own affair.”
“Didn’t like to bother any one, eh? You never in this beast of a town.
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