” She shook her head. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. Hold your hand for a moment. “Of course. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily.
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