I slaved over it, contacted half a dozen genealogy groups and came up with zilch. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. . She turned there and beckoned. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. She felt flattered. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all.
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