She and they walked on parallels which to all eternity could never meet.
It therefore came to pass that, although she had in the secret depths of her being bemoaned her childlessness, and had been conscious of yearnings and longings which were agonies, when Doctor Sturtevant, after the poor young unknown mother had been laid away in the Fairbridge cemetery, proposed that they should adopt the bereft little one, she rebelled.
"If he were a white baby, I wouldn't object that I know of," said she, "but I can't have this kind.

I can't make up my mind to it, Edward." "But, Maria, the child is white.

He may not be European, but he is white.

That is, while of course he has a dark complexion and dark eyes and hair, he is as white, in a way, as any child in Fairbridge, and he will be a beautiful boy.

Moreover, we have every reason to believe that he was born in wedlock.