The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. Grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles and aunts … to love and to coddle lonely little girls. He figures them out, though. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. He saw now that it was merely a boy. Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. But it's French manners, I suppose.
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