She went into premature labor. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. We aren’t afraid; we don’t bother. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen.
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