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Updated: May 19, 2025
She left because she's the boy's mother, but that's the best you can say of her. This letter Well, you've read it." "She is as a stranger to him?" "Absolutely. She will come in mourning look at that black border and tell him his father is dead, and kill him. I know the type." The canary chipped at his sugar; the red beard of the Dozent twitched, as does the beard of one who plots.
He read the letter again, and tried to read into the lines Jimmy's mother, and failed. He glanced into the ward. Still Jimmy slept. A burly convalescent, with a saber cut from temple to ear and the general appearance of an assassin, had stopped beside the bed and was drawing up the blanket round the small shoulders. "I can give orders that the woman be not admitted to-day," said the Dozent.
The Dozent retired to his room for the second breakfast; the nurses went about the business of the ward; Dr. Anna Gates drew a hairpin from her hair and made a great show of opening the many times opened envelope. "The letter at last!" she said. "Shall I read it or will you?" "You read it. It takes me so long. I'll read it all day, after you are gone. I always do." Anna Gates read the letter.
They were a quarrelsome lot, the convalescents. Jimmy was so busy some days settling disputes and awarding decisions that he slept almost all night. This was as it should be. The Dozent waited for Peter. His red beard twitched and his white coat, stained from the laboratory table, looked quite villainous. He held out a letter. "This has come for the child," he said in quite good English.
Glasses and dishes clinked again. The Dozent bent across the table. "Some day " he said. The girl blushed. Le Grande made her way into the wings, surrounded by her little troupe. A motherly colored woman took them, shooed them off, rounded them up like a flock of chickens.
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