There they lay, the pillows scarce dinted. How clearly she recognised them. And as she bent over the white bed of Dolorès, Clare saw the tear glisten wet on the rounded cheek.
CHAPTER II
“Who are thy Playmates, boy?”
“My favourite is Joy,
And he his sister Peace doth bring to play,
The livelong day.
I love her well, but he
Is most to me.”
j. b. tabb
