” “A—what?” Anna asked. “I have learned that. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. It’s a mismatch. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. The tears flowed faster. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. She felt like a dried-up old woman. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. To-morrow I'll wire Cook's and the American Express in Hong-Kong to see if there is any mail. ’ He sighed elaborately.
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