The boy and girl I have mentioned were born when Clarette was the wife of another man--a blacksmith at Dinant--who had a sad habit of beating her." "But you love the little ones, I am sure." He shook his head.
"They have somewhat the temper of their father, the blacksmith.

I took them when I took Clarette--just as I took the silver spoons and the checkered tablespread she brought with her--but now that a cruel fate has separated me from the children, perhaps it is all for the best." The doctor gave a snort of disgust, while Ajo smiled.

The girls were too astonished to pursue the conversation, but now realized that Maurie's private affairs did not require their good offices to untangle.

Uncle John was quite amused at the Belgian's confession and was the only one to reply.
"Fate often seems cruel when she is in her happiest mood," said he.
"Perhaps, Maurie, your Clarette will come to you without your seeking her, for all Belgium seems headed toward France just now.

What do you think?
Will the Germans capture Dunkirk ?" The man brightened visibly at this turn in the conversation.
"Not to-day, sir; not for days to come," he replied.