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from Brown Corpus
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She thought again of her children, those two who had died young, before the later science which might have saved them could attach even a label to their separate malignancies.
The girl, her first, she barely remembered.
It could have been anyone's infant, for it had not survived the bassinet.
But the boy the boy had been alive yesterday.
Each successive movement in his growing was recorded on the unreeling film inside her.
He ran on his plump sticks of legs, freezing now and again into the sudden startled attitudes which the camera had caught and held on the paling photographs, all carefully placed and glued and labeled, resting in the fat plush album in the bottom drawer of the escritoire.
In the cruel clearness of her memory the boy remained unchanged, quick with the delight of laughter, and the pain with which she recalled that short destroyed childhood was still unendurable to her.
It was one with the desolate rocks and the alien water on those days when she hated the sea.

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