’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. “No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood.
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