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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"

She crossed her arms over
him. Gregory left them lying there together.
Next day, when they asked her how she was, she answered "Better."
"Some one ought to tell her," said the landlady; "we can't let her soul go
out into eternity not knowing, especially when I don't think it was all
right about the child. You ought to go and tell her, doctor."
So, the little doctor, edged on and on, went in at last. When he came out
of the room he shook his fist in the landlady's face.
"The next time you have any devil's work to do, do it yourself," he said,
and he shook his fist in her face again, and went away swearing.
When Gregory went into the bedroom he only found her moved, her body curled
up, and drawn close to the wall. He dared not disturb her. At last, after
a long time, she turned.
"Bring me food," she said, "I want to eat. Two eggs, and toast, and meat--
two large slices of toast, please."
Wondering, Gregory brought a tray with all that she had asked for.
"Sit me up, and put it close to me," she said; "I am going to eat it all."
She tried to draw the things near her with her fingers, and re-arranged the
plates. She cut the toast into long strips, broke open both eggs, put a
tiny morsel of bread into her own mouth, and fed the dog with pieces of
meat put into his jaws with her fingers.


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