’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders.
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