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Updated: May 11, 2025
That is my Silvio. He stands on his hind legs and rattles the door handle when he wants to come into a room." She opened the door, speaking to the cat as though he were a baby: "Did him want his movver? Come then; but he must stay with her!" She lifted the cat, and came back with him in her arms. He was certainly a magnificent animal.
"Baby isn't a boy, movver," he had once said in extenuation of some childish fault; "movver must not punish Baby." The memories of early childhood are always vague and hazy; but in the distance, among shifting forms and changing prospects, there was always a big, big figure, with kind eyes and strong arms, looming largely in his recollection.
'Si, signorina, I am Hungarian; I was born in Budapest. He met her wide-opened eyes with a look of innocent candour. 'Really! She beamed upon him delightedly; he was playing up even better than she had hoped. 'But if you are Hungarian, what are you doing here in Italy, and how does it happen that your name is Antonio? 'My movver was Italian.
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