Peter,' she asked, trying to speak firmly, 'what are your exact feelings for me?'Those of a devoted son, Wendy.'I thought so,' she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme end of the room.You are so queer,' he said, frankly puzzled, 'and Tiger Lily is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is not my mother.'No, indeed, it is not,' Wendy replied with frightful emphasis.
-J.M. Barrie
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