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Updated: July 19, 2025
Having no objection to moving her eyes, she was opposed to moving her body unless towards an approved certainty. Puddings, bonfires, and laps at story-time were approved certainties; Heaven and London apparently were not. She was contented where she was.
That night, when it was story-time, Ivan and Maroosia consulted together; and when old Peter asked what the story was to be, they were ready with an answer. "The snow is all melting away," said Ivan. "The summer is coming," said Maroosia. "We'd like the tale of the little snow girl," said Ivan. "'The Little Daughter of the Snow," said Maroosia.
He was conscious that Carol was near him, that she was important, that he was afraid of her disapproval; but he was content to be alone. When he had finished sprinkling he strolled into the house, up to the baby's room, and cried to Hugh, "Story-time for the old man, eh?" Carol was in a low chair, framed and haloed by the window behind her, an image in pale gold.
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