‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. Lord knew why he had any interest in an impertinent girl who would certainly have spit him with that dagger! He reached into his pocket and brought it out, examining it in the increasing light as he slowly made his way back up the terrace. “Dear me!” he said. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. We hide it bravely, but so it is.
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