He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. ” He said. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. ‘Never mind where. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed.
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