Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. Everything in the world to live for!—fame that he could not reap, love that he must not take! What was all this pother about hell as a future state? By and by things began to stir on the table: little invisible things. But her heart kept on sinking.
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