The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. He made a quick movement towards her, but she did not flinch. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test.
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