There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear. “I feared we might have a fog. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. She needed to protect the baby. He stepped quickly towards her.
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