“So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. At length, I shall ascertain my name. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed.
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