When he had finishing feeding and burping, Isobella asked her, “Would you like to hold him?” Lucia nodded yes eagerly. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself.
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