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But a biddable girl. To be no longer with Martha was strange. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. He recognized me at once, and he behaved like a madman.
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