‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. You’re mine. Think, ma’am. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. " She wanted to dance.
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