’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. There were no mourners. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. ’ A little sigh escaped her. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. ” Mr. ” “I am going to ask more than a favour,” she said slowly.
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