"Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me! I shall feel like a thief," said Anna.
"Or like a murderer," said Aunt Margret.
X
Meantime Magnus in the nursery was looking down at the little face in the cot, sometimes blinking at the light, sometimes digging its little fist into its face, sometimes gripping with its tiny soft hand his own coarse finger. Through the open door to the adjoining room there came the voice that he knew so well, a little weaker, a little thinner, but more joyous and silvery than before.
"Is that you, Magnus?"
"Yes, Thora."
"Have you seen my little Elin?"
"I'm looking at her now, Thora."
"Isn't she beautiful? Isn't she a darling?"
"She's like a little angel, Thora."