’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. . ‘Hollow. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. . I am a little afraid.
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