When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. Nigel! You have not forgotten. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom.
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