After all," I said, "it's their uncle's fault. Then, as if giving utterance to the process of his own thought, he said: --Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not. Then he smiled and said: --O, well, it was a mistake; I am sure Father Dolan did not know. He rolled its body, tender yet brittle as a grain of rice, between thumb and finger for an instant before he let it fall from him and wondered would it live or die.
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