Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. ‘And I am very glad you did this bad thing, because if not, who would take care of me?’ Martha shook her head, and Melusine spied wetness again in her eyes, although they met hers bravely. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery.
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