’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. “I don’t know. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. It is you who took my name, not I yours.
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