Even if she had had the strength she never would have nursed and played with the little girls.

No, it was as though a cold breath had chilled her through and through on each of those awful journeys; she had no warmth left to give them.

As to the boy--well, thank Heaven, mother had taken him; he was mother's, or Beryl's, or anybody's who wanted him.

She had hardly held him in her arms.

She was so indifferent about him that as he lay there...