And grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax.
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