’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat.
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