Bête, she told herself fiercely. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. It was clear it must be to-morrow. Fire; she was full of it. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. . ” The tired woman sat still for a moment. She was honest again. So far it had been plain sailing, and it had seemed fairly evident to go on: “I find it very difficult to answer your letter.
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