Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. She had no place she loved. In the first place, Mrs. Quick, now. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. It looks so French to be affectionate.
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