Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. "I told you I was not unprotected. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. ” “No? But it is very simple. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands.
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